


A Scandal in the Behavioral Analysis Unit

by melanoms



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Deductions, F/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sherlock is a Brat, bau wasn't expecting this dick to show up, bit of crack, minor spencer reid/reader, moriarty!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoms/pseuds/melanoms
Summary: You left London and took a job as an FBI profiler (even against your criminal brother's wishes). However, as all things go in your life, your peaceful day of paperwork was interrupted when Sherlock Holmes came storming through the BAU...begging you to return to London.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/You
Comments: 17
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a dream I had one time xD

With a mug of hot water in hand, you strutted to your desk with a shameless grin across your face. You gently poured the water over the coffee grounds in your French press. 

As you waited for them to soak, you turned on your computer and started rifling through unfinished reports. Morgan leaned on your desk and raised his eyebrows.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

“We don’t have a case today. I can finally catch up on some paperwork.”

“You are the only agent I have ever met who enjoys paperwork.”

“What?” Your eyes flickered to him. “It’s meditative.”

“In that case, maybe you’d like to finish mine to find your zen?”

“Nice try.”

“Yeah, it was worth a shot.” He clicked his tongue and glanced around before whispering to you. “Got a hot date with that mystery guy you always call on our cases?”

“I don’t have a mystery guy. Just a...consultant.”

You started to boot up your machine. But anytime you clicked with the mouse, it completed a right-click on the screen. 

“What the…”

You right-clicked and it performed properly. But with every left-click, an additional menu opened. 

Spencer plopped in his chair and used his toes to inch closer to his desk. You snapped your gaze to him and narrowed your eyes.

“What did you do to my computer?”

“Hm?” He set his bag next to his filing cabinet. 

Derek pushed down on the French press plunger and poured some coffee into his mug. Wrinkling your nose at Spencer, you started disassembling your mouse; calculating an error in hardware was more likely than software with the technophobe genius.

But, finding nothing wrong with your equipment, you dragged your hands over your hair and groaned.

“It’s going to take me forever to fix this because I can’t click anything!”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Ace.” Derek patted your shoulder. “It’s meditative.”

As you began the arduous process of reinstating the integrity of your machine, Spencer raised his eyebrows at the corner of a fifty dollar bill peeking from his stacks of files.

The corner of your lip upturned in a smirk as he furrowed his brow to investigate. Spencer tentatively placed the bill between his fingers and slid it out from between the manila folders. But he released a sigh upon realizing it was just a piece of a bill attached to a neon pink sticky note..with one word written on it.

“Gotcha!”

“You know, anyone who alters, defaces, mutilates, impairs, diminishes, falsifies, scales, or lightens coins and currency can face fines or prison time.” He threw open a folder.

“Looks like you have a case, Doctor Reid.” 

You clicked your pen and started scribbling away on your own paperwork.

“I’m sure you’ll catch the criminal.” You winked at him.

“Sure, do you think you could look up Title 18, Chapter 17 of the US Code for me?” He rubbed his eyes. “Cutting back on my screen time.”

“Yeah, as soon as I fix my fucking machine.”

“Might want to call Garcia for that.”

Rolling your eyes, you continued writing away. But your gaze snapped upward as the glass doors of the BAU flew open. An all-too-familiar voice started barking your name.

“MORIARTY!”

“Oh, fuck.” You dragged your hand down your face.

“You won’t reply to my texts. I even bothered to call you. And I hacked John’s email and you _still_ wouldn’t respond. Even to him.”

“You what?” John glared at Sherlock.

“Well, ‘hacked’ was gratuitous. I just stole his laptop. You should really get in a better practice of logging out of—”

“How did you two get up here?” You leaped upright and threw out your hands.

“Are you really boring yourself with the _FBI_?” Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “What would your brother think of your career choice?”

“Actually, he helps...nevermind.” You glared at John. “It is an eight and a half hour flight from London to Quantico and you couldn’t have called?”

“It was fourteen bloody hours because we couldn't afford a non-stop flight. And he took my mobile.” 

“Revoked his privileges,” Sherlock corrected. “Pack your belongings. We’re returning to London.”

As you and Sherlock bickered in the bullpen, Hotch furrowed his brow and murmured into the phone. 

“I’ll have to call you back.”

Emily dashed into his office with a file in hand.

“Who’s that?” Hotch nodded to Sherlock as the decibel level continued to increase.

“I think that’s her ex?” She cocked an eyebrow.

Hotch stepped out from behind his desk. But Emily narrowed her eyes and grabbed onto his wrist.

“Oh my God, no. I think, I think I heard about this guy. When I was working at Interpol.”

“Who is he?”

“Calls himself the consulting detective.”

“Sherlock Holmes?”

“Yeah, how did you…”

Hotch crossed his arms and drew in a breath. “Kate mentioned him from her time at Scotland Yard.”

He strutted out of his office.

“Sherlock,” you growled. “I’m working. We can talk about this later.”

“Yes, such important work you’re doing here.”

JJ walked over with a few case files in hand. She raised her eyebrow at you.

“Hey, is everything...WHOA.”

Sherlock swiped the open cases from her. Pursing his lips he threw open the top file.

“First responder Angel of Mercy.” 

He tossed the file on the floor and opened the next.

“Psychopath with abandonment issues.”

Onto the next. 

“Oh, shocking.” He mockingly raised his eyebrows. “Another white man who can only experience sexual gratification by stabbing petite blonde women.”

With wide eyes, Morgan stared at Reid. “Is this guy for real?”

Sherlock whipped his head around. Glaring at Spencer, he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side.

“No,” he breathed before returning his gaze to you. He threw the files onto the floor and raised his eyebrows. “You’re wasting your time here. If you want a genius, just come home. I at least know how to use a mobile phone.”

“I know how to use a phone, you jackass.” Spencer bolted upright. “I just prefer not to.”

“Yes, I’m sure she finds your OCD incredibly charming.”

“At least I’m not a narcissist with possessive tendencies. You know that narcissism is an overly compensating ego for low self-worth?”

“Oh, shit.” John covered his mouth with his fist.

“Please, continue to profile me 187.” Sherlock smirked.

“187…” Spencer furrowed his brow. “What’s your IQ?”

“Not 187.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

Hotch stepped in front of you and crossed his arms. 

“It’s time for you to leave,” he commanded.

Sherlock’s eyebrow quirked and he looked the unit chief up and down. 

“Tan lines along your ring fingers. You switched your ring back and forth. Didn’t want to keep it on your left since she left you, thought you’d try the right. But just recently decided to forgo the sentiment altogether. Something happened to her? Judging by the faces of every person in this room, a trage—”

You threw your palms to his chest and started shoving him out the door.

“Sherlock, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Oh, yes. Leave my murder in the incredibly incapable hands of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

John slowly backed toward the door. “Sherlock, I’m pretty sure they’d help her at this point.”

“And we would know how to get away it with it,” you growled. “Jamie might bother to visit America just for the occassion.”

Once you were on the other side of the door, you crossed your arms and glared at him.

“Did any of your genius deductions tell you that maybe I never responded because I didn’t want to talk to you?”

“Of course. But the likelihood of that is…” He furrowed his brow. “You’re upset?”

Mouth hanging open, you stared at John.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

“What will it take for you to get the hell out of here?” 

Sherlock flashed you a haunting smile.

“Oh, no.” You shook a finger. “No, no, no. You are not working a case with...goodbye, Sherlock. Please, for the love of crime, never contact me again.”

As you spun around to stomp away from him, Sherlock reached out to you. His fingertips grazed your wrist, inciting you to whip around and stamp your knuckles along the side of his face. 

“Damn!” Morgan hissed and smacked a twenty into Emily’s palm.

“That’s my girl.” She grinned.

With airborne curls, Sherlock’s head flew backward. John barely caught him from toppling over.

“I was going to apologize,” Sherlock coughed. He glared at John. “Is this what happens whenever you ruin your relationships?”

Releasing his grip, John let Sherlock collapse to the linoleum. He wiped his hands and gave you a nod.

“It is good to see you,” John said. “Even under the unnecessarily dramatic circumstances.”

“Tea later?”

“Would be lovely.”

“I’ll call you when I’m out of here.”

Sherlock rose to his feet with a grunt. Crossing your arms, you rolled your eyes and drew in a breath.

“You can join us if you bloody behave yourself.”

Sherlock scrunched his face and nodded. Pursing his lips, John raised his eyebrows and mouthed ‘bye’ you to before leading the consulting detective out of the FBI offices.

Mycroft was already getting a slew of phone calls.

You grabbed your mobile to phone your brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second part is officially in the works.


	2. Chapter 2

After Sherlock and John left, Aaron stormed to his office. He shuffled with papers on his desk and, finding an uninteresting page to focus on, he started scribbling away. You firmly knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

You cracked the door open and raised your eyebrows.

“Can I take a half day?”

He set the pen down and glared at you.

“I thought your brother wasn’t going to be an issue.”

“This has nothing to do with my brother. In fact, he’s helped us with—”

“Fine.” He continued writing.

“Okay...I’m sorry for what Sherlock said about you. But, if it wasn’t amply clear, he’s a cock and you shouldn’t listen to anything he said.”

“I said you could take the day.”

Closing the door, you rolled your eyes and drew in a breath. But when you returned to the bullpen, you glanced around to see that no one from your team was at their desks.

You quickly gathered your files and threw your bag over your shoulder. Traipsing to Penelope’s den, you threw open the door. Everyone bolted around and she closed out all of her windows in a flurry.

“NOTHING!” She swiveled around in her chair.

“Um, I didn’t say anything.”

“Right,” she spun around and hammered her fingers across her keyboard. “We were just—”

“I’m heading home. You all have the from the lift to my car to ask your questions.”

JJ, Emily, and Derek all exchanged a glance. But you nodded to Spencer.

“Can I borrow your mobile? Misplaced mine.”

Avoiding your gaze, he started digging in his pocket. But Derek furrowed his brow.

“You were on your phone earlier.”

“She’s got two,” Spencer answered, tossing you his cell.

“Wait, you’ve got two identical pink phones?” Derek looked at Emily, as if to extract an answer from her.

“One is exclusively for my brother.” You rolled your eyes. “He picked the color scheme. Call him sentimental.”

You dialed your own number and raised the phone to your ear.

As a mysterious buzzing rattled from his jacket pocket, John jerked his head back and blinked a few times. Retrieving your phone, he drew in a breath and answered.

“When did you give this to me?”

“Deduce it, Watson.”

“I’m sorry.” John dragged his hand down his face. “I tried to—”

“Don’t worry yourself. I’m heading home now. So you have about ten minutes to finish investigating my flat.”

Silence.

“You did break into my flat, didn’t you?”

“I will not be able to reassemble this in ten minutes.”

He winced at the sound of glass breaking from the other room. You threw your head back and groaned.

“Better take cover.”

“What?”

“Pretty sure he just let out my birthday present from Jim.”

You ended the call and handed Spencer his phone. Strutting to the elevator, the herd followed you. Emily tilted her head to the side. 

“I don’t think any of us have seen your apartment,” she mused.

“Good.” You pushed through the glass doors.

Derek cocked an eyebrow. “So your brother is _that_ Moriarty?”

“Simple Google search.” You punched the down button with your index finger.

“And he’s the one you consult with when were stuck on cases?”

“Well, he is the consulting criminal.” You shrugged.

“And you dated that guy?” JJ asked.

“What?” you laughed, whipping your head around. “No, we never dated. We just had sex...a number of times. Piss off my brother.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow. “That’s…”

“Romantic,” Emily finished.

You adjusted the strap of your bag and faced forward with a shrug. Spencer’s gaze bolted to the floor and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped inside, bringing your conglomerate shadow with you. You pressed the button for the garage with a sigh. JJ scrunched her face and glanced at Penelope.

‘Think it was any good?’ she mouthed.

But Penelope could only grimace back. 

You drew in a breath and glanced upward.

“Sherlock and my brother had quite the rivalry. Escalated over a few months. Sherlock’s brother helped him fake his death. I helped my brother fake his. It was all over the papers. I got bored of being in the middle. It all got too childish for me. And that is how I ended up here. I don’t really know what they’re up to now.”

The doors flew open and you marched outside.

“Any other questions you’re not asking?”

“What does a psychopathic murderer get his sister for her birthday?” JJ asked.

“A black mamba,” Penelope answered.

“Pen.” You glared at her.

“He thought there wasn’t any paperwork...but, but I found it.”

“And you kept that?” Emily stared at you.

“I couldn’t just leave Carl out in the cold. He’d die.”

At your car, you unlocked the driver’s side door and threw it open. But to your horror, JJ, Emily, and Derek fought to scramble into the back seat. Spencer leaped in the passenger side and your eyes darted around.

“What are you doing?”

Emily held up her badge.

“FBI. You are in possession of an illegal, exotic snake and we are coming to confiscate it.”

“You guys have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into.”

Penelope pointed to the ground.

“I’m going to stay here. But, but...” She tapped your shoulder. “I think I probed through a firewall too many and I started getting all these calls from the office of a Mycroft Holmes.”

Snickering, you shook your head. 

“You’re fine. Mycroft is harmless.” You slid into the driver’s seat. “At least when I’m through with him.”

You shut the door and blew her a kiss before starting the engine. As you exited the parking garage, Spencer broke the silence.

“Did you see him when you went back for Christmas?”

You smirked. “Yeah, Jim picked me up from the airport. Got a black bag over my head and shoved into an SUV. But he was pissed when he realized I was counting the whole time. Said he’d drug me next year. Drama queen.”

“I don’t think he was asking about your brother,” Derek said, squished between Emily and JJ.

“What? You mean Sherlock and John? Why would I see them?”

“And the plot thickens.” Emily raised her eyebrows at the inhabitants of the back seat.

“I don’t understand why you’re all so fascinated. They’re just annoying.” You pulled onto the road.

Derek looked between Emily and JJ. “Should we be more bothered by the fact that she’s got a psychopathic murder for brother and no one told us? Hotch had to know.”

“Not our jurisdiction.” Emily shrugged.

“Thing with the Crown Jewels was pretty cool,” JJ said.

Emily pointed at her. “Yeah, who’da thought you could get so creative with diamonds? They’re a criminal’s best friend.”

“Jamie will be pleased he has a new fan club.” You tried to smile at Spencer. But he continued to stare out the window.

“So how’dya do it?” Derek leaned forward. “Fake his death?”

“Magician never gives away her secrets. But if you all scoured the internet, I’m sure Spencer has a theory or two.”

“Hey, pretty boy.” Derek tapped his shoulder. “Spill.”

But Spencer only grumbled and curled toward the window even more.

Only minutes from the office, you pulled up to your apartment building and turned off the engine. Bustling the up the stairs, you threw open the door and groaned at the disarray.

“It’s all wrong!” Sherlock scowled at you. “The television, half-filled bookshelves, and when did you start drinking so much soda?”

“Wow, you really need your routine. Neurotic thing.”

You raised your eyebrows at John, who was sitting on top of your kitchen table with his arms wrapped around his knees.

“Did he let Carl out?”

“Nope,” he popped the p, shaking his head.

“And where is your French horn?” Sherlock barked.

“How did you know...”

“First time you kissed me. Clearly a wind instrument. Brass, draw attention from your brother. And the placement of your hands on me, well—”

“Okay!” You threw your bag aside. “John, tea?”

“As long as it’s not here.”

“That was my plan.”

Behind you, Derek crossed his arms. “Can you really tell what kind of an instrument someone plays based on how they kiss?”

“Well,” Sherlock snickered. “I can.”

Spencer shuffled his feet behind you as JJ and Emily sat at the table. With a grin, JJ extended her hand.

“We didn’t have a chance to properly introduce ourselves. I’m JJ.”

“John.” He unfurled his arms, shaking her hand with a smile.

“Call me Emily.”

“So you’re a doctor?” JJ asked.

“And you were in the army?”

“Who’s, according to a friend of ours, a sharpshooter?”

“Don’t forget blogger!” Emily added.

“Er...yeah.” John smirked.

Derek held out his hands. “What are you doing hanging out with a jackass like this?”

Mouth hanging open, John drew in a breath. But he shook his head and shrugged.

“Sometimes, I don’t even know.”

“You’re my friend.” Sherlock wrinkled his nose.

“A lot can change in fourteen hours, Sherlock.”

“Thirteen hours and seven minutes. We caught a tailwind on the second flight.”

“And you should be grateful every day for those fifty-three minutes.”

Emily pointed at John with a smile. “I like him.”

“Me too.” JJ crossed her arms and nodded.

“Now that you got a good look at my flat, can you all get the fuck out?”

“That’s just rude.” Derek cracked open a soda from your fridge.

Emily nodded to him. “Oh, me too!”

“Same,” JJ added.

Derek tossed them each a can. He raised one to John.

“You too, Watson?”

“Sure.” John shrugged.

But everyone’s heads turned as the door slammed, with you on the other side of it. Leaning against your kitchen counter, Derek took a sip and raised his eyebrows.

“What’s with her?”

“Those Moriartys,” Emily clicked her tongue. “Temperamental types.”

As Sherlock stomped out after you, JJ glanced around your apartment. 

“Where’s Spencer?”

“Her bedroom,” John replied.

“Oh, oh.” Derek wiggled his eyebrows.

“No.” John shook his head. “He’s with the snake.”


	3. Chapter 3

Today was a dreadful day.

Carl wrapped around himself as he tightened in coils. 

The lamp you received didn’t heat his tank evenly. He was still reduced to spending most of his time in this particularly lonely corner. 

But then, as if waiting for your next mysterious shipment of pet supplies wasn’t loathsome enough, a new human dashed around your home with little concerned for any sense of order.

Neurotic thing.

Now, as Carl flicked his tongue at yet another new human—your social life seemed to be flourishing these days—he carefully examined the eyes staring back at him. 

This human was far more tolerable...by his standards. 

Sitting on the edge of your bed, Spencer drew in a breath.

“I knew about her brother. That, that was obvious. But this…”

He glanced down and shook his head. 

“I think I’m in over my head. What you think?”

Carl tightened into himself and lowered his gaze.

“Yeah, me too.”

Outside your front door, you crossed your arms and gritted your teeth.

“What are you really here for, Sherlock? Some display for Jamie? Because I’m done playing this game with you two.”

“You left.”

“Exceptional deduction. I thought that was obvious.”

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“I’m going to figure out what this is really about.”

“Why? Why did you leave? I’ve clearly…” Sherlock swallowed. “Miscalculated something.”

“Did you ever think that maybe I got bored of you and your theatrics?”

He jerked his head backward. “Bored?”

“Yes, Sherlock. Bored. You might dazzle your live in with your deductions and arrogance. But you’re not useful to me now. Jim doesn’t care what I do with you.”

“If you were truly bored, you wouldn’t resort to consulting for the FBI. This is beneath even your namesake. What’s your angle?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “This is an assignment for your brother. Is he struggling so desperately that he has to expand to America?”

“His work is thriving. Thanks, in part, to you. Quite a bit of press you two stirred up for his business.”

“You and John play civil. But he’s terrified of you and you’re indifferent to him. You moan about your brother, even finding yourself in his adversary’s bed just to trouble him…”

He took a step forward, raising his eyebrows. 

“And yet, behind this detached familial facade—I am intimately familiar with the type—you care. You care deeply for your brother James Moriarty.”

“The point, Sherlock. Get to the bloody point.”

“Whatever you’re running from is quite troublesome. To put an ocean, or more practically, five time zones between you.”

Straightening his posture, Sherlock smirked. 

“I’ll take your case.”

Jaw hanging slightly agape, you shook your head. 

“You complete and utter git.”

You threw open the front door and stomped inside. Nostrils flaring, your eyes darted around your shamelessly disheveled apartment. 

“That conversation did not go well,” Derek said. 

Clenching your teeth, you snapped your gaze to him. 

“Wait for it…” Emily tightened her grip around her soda.

But to everyone’s disappointment, you relaxed your hands upon the sound of your phone ringing. 

“Jamie, what the hell did you do?” you answered.

“Did you get the antivenom?”

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes. “The real one was in the red vial.”

“Very good, baby sister. If you let it leave your side, the venom won't be your only concern.”

Eyeing the suspicious glances in the room, you strutted to your bedroom. Spencer whipped his head around as you flung yourself atop your rumpled sheets.

“Why is Sherlock here, Jim?”

“Your sense of humor is dulling.”

“I’m serious. He came storming through the BAU. Tore apart my flat. Did you listen to any of my messages?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Jim. Why is he here? I know I’m breaking my own rule. But what happened between you two?”

Spencer mumbled under his breath as Jim began defending himself. 

“Hold on.” You put your hand over the receiver. “What was that?”

“It’s, um.” Spencer cleared his throat. “It’s because he’s in love with you.”

You bolted upright and glared at him. “Don’t be daft.”

Wrinkling your nose, you returned your attention to the phone. But Jim clicked his tongue and hummed.

“Grim news, sister mine. The sensitive one is right.”

“You two are both smarter than this.”

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair and huffed an exhale. 

“He flew 14 hours to see you. Insists on bringing you home for no other reason than you don’t belong here and consistently tries to assert his dominance over anyone close to you.”

“Better than Natural World,” Jim snickered. 

“Jim, you promised you wouldn’t put me in the middle of this anymore.”

“Don’t play ordinary. It’s unflattering. You’ll tarnish our reputation.”

“I’m not. This is clearly a manipulative tactic to get me to do whatever he wants. I’ve seen him do this before.”

“You don’t want his affections to be real because they’re either exactly what you don’t want, or worse, what you do.”

Grinding your teeth, you bore your eyes forward. But Jim only reveled in your silence.

“What will it be, dear sister? Do confess your sins.”

“I hate you for enjoying this. You’re the entire reason—”

“I won’t get in your way.”

“What?”

“I’ve accepted that your need for companionship extends beyond me. Although, if you’re in want of intelligent conversation, why you would bother with Sherlock Holmes confounds me. But perhaps that isn’t what you get from him. Now is it?”

“I’m not...no. Jim, you’ve gone mad.”

“Hasn’t stopped me before.”

Looking at Spencer, you ended the call and hung your head. Sherlock’s words lingered in your mind. 

_Is this what happens when you ruin your relationships? Where is your French Horn? You left without saying goodbye._

Biting your lip, you raised your eyebrows at Spencer.

“Thank you.”

Passing the curious gazes that all followed you, you exited your apartment to see Sherlock sitting against the wall in the hallway. Hands resting atop his knees, he slowly rose to his feet and shook his head.

“This was a mistake.”

“Sherlock.”

“I apologize for disrupting your d—“ He furrowed his brow. “Life.”

He reached for the door handle to retrieve John. But you latched your palm over his wrist and bore your eyes into his. 

“Jim almost died.”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

Crossing your arms, you glanced down before returning your gaze to him.

“After you jumped, he…” You gulped. “You two are morons.”

“You’ve apparently established that.”

“Jim almost died and that stunt could have actually killed you. So afterward, I talked to Mycroft and—”

“Mycroft?” Sherlock tilted his head to the side. “And he, he sent you here?”

“Yes.”

Drawing in a breath, Sherlock pressed his palms together and placed his fingertips to his chin. He slowly nodded before returning his focus to you.

“We thought if Jamie missed me," you explained, "if he focused on my work…”

“He could redirect his attention to a, as they call it, healthier outlet.”

“Precisely.”

“Is it working?”

“I don’t know. I don’t actually need his help for cases. And I’m sure he figured that out by now. But I’m hoping he thinks I’m calling because...I miss him?”

“And do you? Miss him? Your, your brother.”

Pausing, you furrowed your brow and examined his expression.

“Of course I do. What kind of an ignorant question is that?”

As Sherlock drew in a breath, you waited for his impending monologue. But to your surprise—or was it delight or distaste? You couldn’t decipher the sensation in your chest—the corner of his lip upturned in a gentle smile. He leaned and pressed his lips to your cheek before standing upright again.

“You have a life here. But if you choose to return to London, you can stay with us. We don’t need to drug you to conceal our location.”

“Sherlock…”

“Until you find your own flat, of course. Brass is far too abrasive for Mrs. Hudson.” He cleared his throat and glanced down. Slowly looking back at you, he gave you a small nod. “That is...if you decide to return.”

“Um, thank you.”

“Forgive me for the trouble I have caused you.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Rolling your eyes, you withdrew two boarding passes you printed at the office. 

“I got you a direct flight.” 

“You live on a government salary.”

Sherlock wrapped his hand around the tickets. But you refused to relinquish them.

“Jim Moriarty launders money through fake businesses in my name. And you don’t think I skim from the top of that?”

You let go with a smirk. “Find something to do for eight and a half hours.”

“John will be relieved.”

“I, I should hope so.”

You entered your apartment just as Derek spun around from your silverware drawer with a fork in hand. 

“Silverware.” He raised his eyebrows.

Still sitting on top of your table, John shook his head. “Cutlery. That’s clearly not silver.”

Derek pointed to the stove.

“Hob,” John and Emily said.

Fingers in her hair, JJ pursed her lips and glanced to the side. Emily leaned over to whisper in her ear, enjoying the flush across her cheeks.

“I thought things were going well with you and Will.”

“They are,” JJ scoffed. “I just...like a good accent.”

With curious eyes, Derek flipped on the faucet to your kitchen sink. He cocked an eyebrow at John.

“Oh, turn off the tap,” John groaned. “You’re increasing her hydro bill.”

“That’s Canadian.” JJ pointed at him.

John beamed at her. “Well done.”

“Oh, God.” She covered her face with her hand and looked away.

Derek put a hand on his hip. “Okay, I know that’s the telly.”

But his eyes widened when John shook his head.

“No, we don’t, we don’t say that at all.”

“What? I know I’ve heard that before.”

“Must not have been from an actual Englishman.” John shrugged. “Which, for the record, is different than a British person.”

Emily furrowed her brow and looked at him. “No, I know that…”

But John stared her down.

“Ohh, no,” she corrected. “You’re right. I’ve only heard that on TV shows...on the telly.”

“OH C’MON!” Derek threw out his hands.

Raising your brows, you walked into the room as all heads turned to you.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

“This dude is crazy,” Derek said.

“No, I think you mean mad.” John pursed his lips.

You glanced at Emily for an explanation. But she snapped her jaw shut as Spencer emerged from your room. Sherlock closed the door behind you and took a step forward.

Your hair...it smelled different too.

“So…” Derek cut through the silence with the question everyone wanted to ask. “You headed back home?”

Eyeing every curious face in the room, you drew in a breath.

“I, I don’t know.”

And, for the first time in your life, you truly didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love and appreciate all comments. I just won't be able to respond to any requests for more from this series. I hope you enjoyed it though!


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